


Your Name is Peter Parker

by notawritersh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Peter Parker, BAMF Tony Stark, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hospitals, How Do I Tag, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Injuries, Murder, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Norman Osborn Being a Jerk, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Oscorp - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Tony Stark, Serious Injuries, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Violence, Waaaaaa, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, hydra is a dick, im crying please help me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26295730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notawritersh/pseuds/notawritersh
Summary: June 10, 2016 -- The Avengers ars tasked to raid a HYDRA base, having overheard from an interrigation of something hiding in the underground levels-- something called the Spider.June 10, 2016 -- the Spider is tasked to protect the research on it that the doctors have spent years collecting, and to destroy the Winter Soldier.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 36
Kudos: 370





	1. Stand Down

**Author's Note:**

> [or, the fun Hydra!Peter AU that we need more of]

_Spider kept its eyes concentrated on its friend, the shining red star prominent on the older man's metal arm. It watched him as the man's cold eyes stared up at it before a guard behind him muttered something quietly._

_The fight began, the Spider gasping as the Soldier took the first hit on it; a kick on the side of its chest. Spider stumbled back, gasping, before it started to fight back, attempting to catch the Soldier's arm before it could be punched. It swung its other hand towards the man's face, effectively gaining a clean punch on the older man._

_The guard yelled something, a word in Russian that the young Spider had not yet learned, and the Soldier began to twist the arm that the child was using to hold his metal arm. Spider screamed, its arm being bent as if it was about to be torn apart. It fought off the tears of pain as it finally managed to pull away from the Soldier’s grip, the arm flopping uselessly on its side after it heard a loud snap._

_Weak. Pathetic. Useless._

_The Spider continued to fight with its good arm, doing its best to block the brutal attacks from his fellow Soldier. Its lip quivered almost unnoticed before its face was struck with a metal fist. It blinked quickly, erratically, the assault on its face was too much as it felt more and more fists attack it. Spider gasped helplessly, attempting to pull away from its cold friend._

_"James," it begged, its voice raspy. The Spider felt bile crawling up its throat; had it been screaming? "Stop, please."_

_But the Winter Soldier hadn't. Instead he pulled the child up and threw him against the wall. Spider made a strangled noise, its head pounding too much to be able to concentrate._

_"Up. Now." A guard -- the same guard that had been behind the Soldier, in fact -- commanded, standing in front of the shaking eight year old, looming above it._

_Spider whimpered, its ribs feeling as if someone crushed them, and shakily began to stand up. It forced himself to stay upright, ignoring the pain that shot out from its legs._

_It looked up towards the Soldier, who stared at it back with a flash of recognition and regret in his eyes, before it watched them be covered by the same cold slate the Spider was now used to seeing._

_The Spider felt itself be grabbed by the shoulders and its head turned to face a doctor; one with a clean, freshly ironed lab coat and a tight smile. It decided to smile back, biting its cheek to keep itself from making noises while the doctor dabbed harshly on its face in order to clean it up._

_"Have you learnt your_ lesson _, little pauk?"_

_The Spider nodded, making the world spin around it. "Yes, sir." It said obediently._

The Spider screamed.

* * *

It screamed. Loud and pained, begging to be released from its confinement as it laid down on top of a metal table. It screamed, screamed for help that didn't come.

"Mom," Pauk whispered through its gasps of breath, tears falling from the knives that cut it open. "Mom, dad, James…" 

The Spider screamed again, a harsh hand making contact with its cheek. Its body shook under the straps that forced him to remain in place on top of the cold counter. Its sixth sense screamed at it, to get out get out get _out get out !_ but it couldn't. 

All it could do was scream until its throat was raw, and watch itself in the mirror as the doctors opened it up and took its blood.

Barnes had been silent for a few days, and still, he stayed silent while him and a few of the Avengers flew towards an old Hydra base. Since coming back from Wakanda, memories flooded him day after day, no longer having the mental wall that had been put up while he was being trained. 

* * *

They were good memories. Memories of him and Steve hanging out, taking care of each other, and he smiled, forever grateful that he was getting himself back; that he was getting himself back onto his feet. Back to being Bucky.

Yet he can't feel like he wanted to go to a HYDRA base. He hadn’t been willing, but Fury insisted on it.

So that’s how he found himself grabbing a gun and clipping it onto his belt as he listened to their plan.

“The documents could be on paper, or on their computers,” Fury stated, and even in his holographic state, he still looked like he had taken a sip of lemon juice. “Romanoff, make sure you get as much information as possible; there may be more HYDRA bases left than we thought.”

The former assassin nodded quietly, humming to herself as they neared their destination. 

“Stark. The Spider, it could be anywhere in the base. Find it, and bring it in.”

“What the hell even is ‘The Spider’?” Tony said expasteradly, though he nodded. “Sounds like a crappy rock band.” 

Bucky frowned, the code feeling familiar to his ears. 

Spider, spider, spider, spider…

What was it? 

Steve looked at his friend with concern in his eyes, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Buck? You okay?”

“Yeah,” he smiled at him, shrugging. “I just… I feel like I know what it is.”

“Wolf, you know about this Spider?” Fury questioned, his see through face turning into a calculating expression. “And you didn’t think to tell us when we had the briefing two days ago?”

“I don’t know for sure,” James countered, scowling. Tony turned to look at the metal-armed man. “I remember things… They’ve mentioned it before, but I never really heard what they said.”

Nick Fury frowned, before nodding slightly and disappearing. 

Natasha pulled on her parachute as the AI in the jet announced that they were close. She looked at her friend, “hey,” she said, nudging him. “What _do_ you know about the Spider?”

_James, I don’t remember my name._

_James, I can’t breathe._

_James, James, James, where are my parents?_

_James, where are you?_

_Why didn’t you save me there?_

_I can’t remember anything._

_Who am I?_

_Stop it!_

_James, stop hurting me!_

_James, please…_

_James--_

“--Barnes!” Tony snapped, and he gave him an apologetic look after seeing the man jump. "What do you know about The Spider-- whatever that is."

Bucky steadied his breath, his head pounding as if it was trying to break apart his walls to find _where_ he had heard that voice. He _knew_ that it was someone, he just didn't know _who_.

"It's…" Bucky started to say, before he frowned and shook his head. "It's a person, I think."

"A _person_?"

"Yeah, a person."

* * *

The Spider sluggishly blinked at the bright white light that shone above it, its sixth sense slowly itching the back of its neck while it continued to repair its body. It groaned quietly, rubbing its temple and looking around blankly.

"Ah, little pauk, you're finally awake," a voice sounded from the opposite side of the vibranium bars that held the powerful teen. "Quite a stunt you pulled two days ago, injuring two of our finest scientists?"

The teen frowned inwardly, and instead letting its face continue to be a blank slate. "I was not in the right state when I had my check up. I apologize, Doctor, and I await my punishment."

The older man only sneered, opening his mouth to say something before the lights had changed into a blinding, screaming red. Guards came out from every room, sending the young spider a headache. The Doctor was pulled away by one of them, while another one unlocked the bars that confined The Spider. 

"Out," he said harshly, using a large gun he was holding to shove the teenager out of its room.

If it could even call it that.

Pauk only grunted in response before looking at the Guard, expecting an order.

"The Avengers are here," the Guard told it, pushing the Spider's suit into its chest. "Keep them from taking our research, we will come back for you." 

The Spider nodded, quickly changing and clipping the web shooters onto its wrists. 

"The traitor is here," he continued, and the soldier stopped dead in its tracks.

Traitor, traitor, _traitor--_

_James! Come back,_ please---

_Don't-- don't forget… don't forget me---_

_Don't lea----_

"Don't hold back."

Stark shot a repulsor at the group of people running away, bullets bouncing off his suit. He began to walk away while talking to Steve.

* * *

"How are you doing, Tony?" The Captain asked through their comms.

"Good, just took care of this group of people and now heading your way…"

He heard a grunt and a shout followed by hurried footsteps. Cautiously, he turned around, coming to face a skinny, black-clad entity.

"Stark? You there?" Natasha asked through the comms, and the man nodded, even if he knew that she couldn't see him. 

"Second floor, East," Tony replied, watching the figure walk around him in circles. "Who are you?"

It hadn't passed a second before an onslaught of fists and fast flying kicks attacked him, long brown curls blurring past. His body automatically blocked the hits, before a splash of white filled his vision.

"Gross, FRIDAY; what the hell is this stuff?" He pulled off the sticky substance gingerly, before shooting a powered repulsor at the lanky figure. To his surprise, they only stumbled back slightly, shaking their head as if stunned. 

"Stark, I'm on my way," Natasha announced, and the man taking hits only made a noise in response. 

Loud gunshots sounded in the hallway and Tony could hear heavy footsteps racing downstairs. He prepared for another fist to land on his face, but instead he was greeted with a kick to the chest, slamming him against the wall. He blinked, his vision spinning as he looked around quickly, trying to locate where the target had gone.

\---

Pauk had bounced off the chest of Iron Man upon hearing the gunshots a floor below them. It hurried down, jumping off the ledge and swinging into a window and breaking it. Bits of glass stuck out of its skin, but chose to ignore it as it grabbed a machine gun from a comatose HYDRA guard. Spider ran to the lab, the only place it knew where they kept information away from the prying eyes of the too nosy agents. 

When it arrived, it saw a man in a blue, red, and white suit hold a folder labeled with its name, along with a worn and torn black leather notebook with a dark red spider symbol.

_Keep them from taking our research._

_Keep them from taking our research._

_Keep them from taking our re---_

The Spider fired the gun at the man, only to watch the bullets ricochet off his shield and into the walls. It dropped the gun onto the ground like a broken toy and webbed the shield out of the Captain's hands. 

"What--" He breathed, before widening his eyes as the shield was thrown back at him. He winced, catching it in his hands but not without making it sting the slightest beat.

"Steve! You okay?" 

The Spider's senses flared as it turned around to see who had spoken in the same familiar voice that had left it all those years ago.

It focused its attention on _him_. 

_Don't hold back_.

"Buck, look out!" 

The Spider revelled in the struggle that the traitor was clearly having against it, not giving the Soldier enough time to dodge its relentless attacks. Anger blinded Pauk, and it only made it fight harder as it pulled away from someone who tried to grab it by the neck. 

A bright light flashed and the Spider stumbled backwards a bit, blinking to try and rid of the spinning sensation of the room. Instead, it found itself surrounded by 4 of the Avengers, though it kept staring at _him._

_Little pauk, I'm right here_.

"Are you The Spider?" One of them questioned, one similar to the voice it had heard upstairs. 

Instead of replying, it leapt towards _the metal armed man_ , kicking him multiple times before growing furious and dodging a bullet, bouncing off the wall and onto the one who had shot at it. A red-haired woman looked at Pauk in shock as it caught her fist and leg, instead flipping her over and pulling on her arm roughly. A satisfying snap made her scream, and Spider turned to focus its attention on the _traitor_ , making the move to attack him. Its sixth sense warned the teen too late as both a repulsor beam and a dull red disk hit its chest.

It screamed loudly, hearing its ribs break and the sudden struggle of breathing, before it felt its head hit the cold cement floor with a horrible thunk. It gasped in pain, looking around wildly as the world looked blurry to it. A cool sensation trickled down its forehead to its neck before a giant blob of red and gold put a foot on its chest. 

"Stand down."

The last thing Pauk remembered hearing was a man who had yelled "Oh god, Peter?" in awe and desperation, before it saw a red fist make contact with its face.


	2. Real

Darkness. Pain.

And then voices.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

"It's incredible, how on earth does he heal so fast? Its only been a few hours and his ribs are nearly in perfect condition, as if they were never injured."

_Who_?

"I've given the folders to Fury, I'll read through them once he gives it back."

"Who is he?"

_Who?_ Who is this "he" they were talking about?

Pauk tiredly opened its eyes to look around, only to be blinded by the bright white lights in the room. Once it adjusted to the burning lights, Spider attempted to scratch its eyes, only to find its arms stuck in restraints. It frowned, only struggling for a moment before it pulled its hands out of them. It heard more voices, and it closed its eyes to feign sleep, breathing slow and deep. 

_Where did they take it_?

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Surely not HYDRA, it knew that for sure. Their voices seemed softer, more gentle as they talked amongst themselves. And it was _warm_. Really warm. Had it been, the teen would have woken up from the cold, mildewy breeze that always seemed to plague the underground levels of his home base. 

"Called The Spider. I thought we talked about this, Barton." Stark. That had to be the person who just spoke.

"No, I know that useless fact, I mean what's his name?"

"Peter… His name is Peter."

_James, they're gonna take me away, don't let them take me away--_

Pauk scowled, forcing its eyes open once again. That was _him_ , the Soldier. 

_Don't hold back._

_Don't hold back._

_Don't hold back--_

It snapped its attention towards an IV drip, a clear liquid in a bag connected to its right arm, and pulled it out. The teen bit the inside of its cheek instead of wincing, and sighed, turning its attention to the incessant beeping of a white machine-- a heart monitor. Pauk watched lines that zigzagged up and down to the beating of its heart, and frowned as its eyes followed wires that connected it to the machine. It pulled the wire out easily, smiling at the flat beep that sounded not long after.

How long had it been out for? The Spider looked down at its arms to do a double-take and stared in wonder at the sight of its skin, cleaned and rid of any dirt and grime that had previously stained it. It pulled at the collar of its shirt, annoyed at the tightness around its neck before it felt a light, papery texture and frowned. 

_Why did it not wake up when someone was changing it_?

It quickly pieced together that it was somewhere all the Avengers had to reside in. Somewhere like the _Avengers_ tower. 

As soon as it realized where exactly it was, Pauk almost panicked.

_But maybe they're good? They cleaned me and they--_

It remembered what had happened two days ago, and shivered slightly, fearing that it was going to happen again. It looked around some more, seeing medical items hang on the wall to the right of him, and subconsciously moved a little farther away from them.

"How do you know him?" A voice similar to the one that had spoken to Stark. Barton, right?

"He was being trained to take an experimental serum, after the other Winter Soldiers had been put to sleep. I helped train him and..."

_Stop it-- James this isn't you-- stop hurting me--_

" _Peter has woken up_." A new, robotic female voice announced to those talking a few rooms down from Pauk's. 

The teen jumped, looking around wildly in search for where the voice had possibly come from. Panic slowly crept up its spine, _Who the hell is Peter?_

_Was_ he _Peter?_

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._

Spider sat up in its bed, footsteps sounding from outside the door. Its sixth sense itched the back of its neck, warning him of something dangerous as its shoulders tensed, fists opening and closing as it watched the door open, ready to leap at someone if they say the wrong thing.

* * *

“ _Peter has woken up,_ ” FRIDAY announced, making Bucky jump ever so slightly. “ _And has removed the wires connecting him to the nutrition IV and heart rate monitor._ ”

“Dumbass kid,” Tony mumbled half-heartedly, earning a glare from Bucky. Bruce sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m going in there--”

“Me too,” Bucky said quietly, interrupting Bruce and gaining a look of surprise from Steve. He shrugged, his hands wringing together as if squeezing water out of a wet washcloth, before he spoke again, “he might like a familiar face with him.”

Bruce looked at him skeptically before he nodded, and motioned him to follow. Bucky looked towards Steve, who offered him a small smile. 

Bucky followed him, walking quickly while thoughts fluttered around his head like a field of butterflies. He hadn't even known about him before he saw his eyes.

His _eyes_ , cold and dead and determined, staring at him while he had blocked the hits as best he could. It scared Barnes, memories of him resurfacing as he remembered the joyful glint in the little boy's eyes slowly be replaced with one of hopelessness and fear.

The lost screams of help and begs echoed in his head, and he had unknowingly stopped walking, causing Banner to look at him strangely.

"James?"

"Huh?" Bucky blinked, shaking his head.

"I've been saying your name for like two minutes, are you sure you're okay?" 

The man smiled softly, appreciating the concern that filled the doctor's voice. "Yes. I'm fine." 

Bruce nodded, and opened the door. 

Bucky watched as Peter stumbled backwards onto the bed, kicking off the blankets that previously hung off the bed frame. He walked towards him slowly and carefully, the kid's eyes on him the entire time, though his face looked like a horrible blank slate.

"Hey, Peter," Bucky said carefully, allowing his lips to curl into a small smile. "Do you remember me?" 

Peter only stared at him, still remaining silent. 

"I'm James," he continued anyways, slowly making his way towards the bed frame. "I helped train you, I helped you remember yourself." 

A flash of recognition in the boy's eyes, instantly replaced with the same blank stare. "Traitor."

Bucky frowned, a pang of hurt and guilt stabbing his heart. He chose to ignore it, instead looking at the broken restraints that lay uselessly on the bed rails. "Guess we know how strong you are now." He said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Peter only continued to stare at him. 

The older man sighed, turning to glance at Bruce and then back at Peter. "That's Dr. Banner," he said, pointing at him. "He's just here to check how your body is doing."

The teen didn't respond, instead he chose to stare down onto his lap, though the same blank expression stayed on his face. James looked at him with concern before he nodded at Bruce to come over.

"Hey, Peter," the doctor said, smiling gently as he walked towards the wall to the left of the bed, reaching to grab a blood pressure monitor. "I'm just gonna check your blood pressure and see how your ribs have healed, okay?"

Again, Peter stayed silent, and Bucky wondered if he was ever going to speak again before he shot his head up and jumped off the bed, staring straight at the door, determined to run out. Bucky sprung into action, catching the boy in his arms just as he had begun running. 

Peter let out a strangled scream as he tried to pull away, "let me-- let me go!"

_I don't want to be here anymore-- let me go!_

_No more tests, please, please, please---_

"Peter, breathe," Bucky said quietly into his ear, still holding onto teen tightly, "we're not gonna hurt you, I promise, you're not gonna get hurt--"

He looked up quickly just to glance at Bruce and give him a quick nod, and the doctor rushed outside the room and closed the door.

"NO--!" Peter shouted, and Bucky flinched at the sudden contact his small fist continuously made to his face. 

He caught his hand the third time, and the teen looked at him with fear.

_James, this isn't you, you can't forget me--_

"Your name is Peter." Bucky said as Peter struggled to pull his fist away from the supersoldier's hold. 

"No it's _not_ \--" 

"Your name is Peter," Bucky repeated, "Your name is Peter."

Peter looked at him, the once blank eyes now filled with recognition and caution. "Ja--...James…?"

The man in question nodded, carefully letting go of Peter's hand.

"Please tell me you're real, please…"

"I'm real. I'm here. I promise."

"Don't let them find me," Peter said quietly, his voice shaking with emotion.

_I'm forgetting I don't want to forget please please--_

Bucky nodded, and he watched as the teen finally slumped, relaxed and calm, falling into his chest.

"I don't want to forget anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys totally KILLED it. i thought i'd get like 50 hits and 3 kudos but i instead get like 300 hits! thanks so much [pleading emoji]  
> enjoy this chapter! i hope you like it, even though its a little shorter than the first one. i'll try to make the next one longer.
> 
> let me know what you think!
> 
> thanks to MysteryGal5 on FFN for beta reading this :)


	3. What Did You Do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO EMBARASSED LMFAO  
> I LEFT THE FUCKING  
> I PUT THE CHAPTER IN SPIDEYTWT STRUGGLES INSTEAD OF FUCKING  
> YOUR NAME IS PETER PARKER  
> IM SCREAMING  
> WHY AM I LIKE THIS  
> i hope yall werent confused jfdjfknjkjdckjcd

_Bucky Barnes woke up, his breathing quick and shallow as he found himself staring up at the bright ceiling lights. He frowned, his head lolling around confused, wondering why he had woken up before he heard screams outside his door, seemingly far away. Faint sobs sounded rooms away, yet he could still hear it clear as day._

_“NO! Don’t take me away--” He heard someone scream, a familiar voice once full of youthful joy and curiosity now filled with fear and terror as Bucky listened from his room. Clangs of metal banging into each other echoed through the halls, into the Soldier’s ears as he continued to listen._

_“Pauk, stop resisting.” Bucky heard someone say to the voice outside, a harsh, snapping voice that could cut through ice. He involuntarily flinched before he chose to stand and walk towards the door._

_A large door made of a metal stronger than his prosthetic arm kept him from leaving. He slid a piece of metal to the right, a small peeking area to see what was out there waiting for him. An uneasy feeling crept up his spine._

_The screams of help seemed to go on forever, the voice breaking with tears. Bucky clenched his metal arm into a tight fist as he continued to look outside, curious to see who the voice was._

_A few seconds later, he got his confirmation._

_“James-- JAMES! I can’t-- I can’t leave him-- please, please don’t take me away--!”_

_James snapped his head up, realizing just_ who _it was. Anger rose with bile in his throat before he began to pound the door, desperate to get to his young friend in time._

_They couldn’t take him away, they_ couldn’t. _He wasn’t sure he could take it, and feared that he would forget him. Bucky continued to bang on the door, soon shouting in Russian to catch the guards attention. The screams of the young child, no older than twelve, continued to echo in his ears as the metal clanged against its hinges, threatening to let itself loose._

_“Peter!” The name came out easily, a rush of fear encompassing his entire body as he tried to break the door down as hard as he could._

_The boy seemed to have heard him, and Bucky heard two older men saying something before a voice interrupted, “James--!”_

_“That is enough, pauk!” One of the men that James had heard before snapped, and a loud slap was heard followed by a quiet whimper._

_Bucky grew furious as he continued to pound on the door before giving up and shakily sitting back down on his bed._

_He stayed silent, though he clenched and unclenched his fists and closed his eyes as he heard screams of pain, and a loud “urok!” before the whole base fell silent._

_Several minutes later, he found himself stuck on a chair, his mouth stuffed to keep from screaming, and a grinning soldier._

_“_ _Zhelaniye.”_

* * *

“What are his injuries?” Natasha asked.

Bucky looked up at her. He had been sitting on the teen’s bed for a few minutes now, watching the child sleep peacefully. James stood, the blanket under him raising as he glanced at Peter one more time before focusing his attention on Natasha. 

She stood under the door frame, and although she had her arm stuck in a cloth sling, Natasha still smiled. The presence of the spy comforted Bucky for some strange reason, and he motioned for her to sit down on one of the cushioned chairs close to the wall. 

“Light concussion. Cracked ribs, Doctor Banner said that they’ve already almost healed completely.” Bucky said, quietly walking back and forth as he spoke. Natasha hummed thoughtfully, eyeing the teenager with great interest.

“Impressive. His powers?” 

“I don’t know.”

Natasha looked a bit shocked, her eyes widening ever so slightly as she stared at him with her mouth almost agape. “You ‘don’t know’?”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head as he glanced back at Peter, his breathing deep and even as it made a comforting beat. “No. I knew him before he had been given the serum. I was only there to train him--" Bucky interrupted himself for a few minutes, staring at Peter as if he could telepathically send him an apologetic message, "--nothing else.”

Natasha nodded, her body leaned back against the back of the chair before she eyed the metal armed man.

Bucky looked at her nervously. He knew just about as much as she did, right now. Memories were still coming back, but it would take at least the day for most of the memories to come back to him; at least, that’s what he hoped. 

Still, he continued to walk around the room aimlessly, his eyes darting over to Peter’s still figure over and over again. He furrowed his brows as he walked, while he absentmindedly began to tap his pointer finger onto his thumb. Natasha spoke again, her calm yet brave voice interrupting any thoughts that were forming in Bucky’s head.

“Barnes?”

“Hm?” 

Natasha hesitated before asking the question as she tried to keep her voice quiet and steady, “what else did you do with him?”

James was afraid of this question.

Who _knows_ what he had done. Most of the things he had done with the teenager had been completely because of training, as well as fighting as a form of punishment. James wracked his head, trying to find a casual answer to the woman’s answer, before she spoke again.

“James.”

“Yeah?” 

“What did they do to him?”

Bucky almost sighed in relief, the previous question seemingly had been forgotten. He could answer much easier, yet some part of him felt guilty as he said, “trained him, malnourished him. Taught him six languages from when I was there. Did other things--”

“Bruce told me that he had scars on him,” Natasha interrupted, making Bucky stop in his tracks as he stared at her blankly. “He said… he had scars everywhere. Do you know where they’re from?”

_I can’t move. James-- I can’t feel anything--_

_I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to be where mommy and daddy are--_

_My entire body feels like it's on fire--_

James let out a shaky breath as he looked at Peter once again. It kept giving him mini shocks whenever he looked at the face; a face of a child, looking as if he was no older than eight. He shook his head; too many memories of 1945 had come back too suddenly, the face of child soldiers holding guns obediently as the Captain had barked loudly at them.

“ _James_.”

He blinked quickly, hearing Natasha’s voice and forcing himself to go back into reality. He took a deep breath and looked Peter over, his eyes scanning for brown splotches before finding one: a large scar shaped like the branches of a fern sat on the teen’s forearm, almost fully faded. 

Bucky opened his mouth, carefully thinking over his sentence before he spoke out loud, “he acted out when he had finished training with me one day, and this was part of his punishment.”

Natasha looked at him, a gentle expression on her face, and although Bucky knew that she wanted to hear more, he changed his attention to another scar: a short, thick scar that lay inches away from Peter’s neck. He let out a sigh of relief at first, glad that it had almost faded since it had happened, before he glanced back at the spy. 

“I gave him that.” Bucky said quietly, and Natasha seemed to understand slightly, and nodded. Bucky continued to look at Peter’s peaceful form until he sighed and looked at Natasha, still sitting comfortably inside the small chair.

She gave him a half smile, a sad look in her eyes as she looked at Bucky, before standing up. Bucky could swore he felt even her sheer determination radiate from her body.

“We’ll get those bastards that hurt Peter. I promise.” Natasha said sincerely, and James smiled at her and nodded, his heart warming knowing that she had accepted Peter. 

“I know we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone :)  
> i'm super sorry for such a late update. i had a really hard time writing this chapter for some reason. i'm also really sorry for such a short chapter. i hope it doesn't feel rushed !  
> life update though-- i'm getting a dog tomorrow !! i'm super excited. also, for all those who are waiting on spideytwt, i will update it soon, i'm writing another chapter soon ! don't worry :)  
> thanks for all the support !! 1000 hits and 100 kudos ?? that's insane ! tysm :) i hope you like this chapter  
> let me know what you all think ! also, should i have a tumblr? i have no idea how to use the stupid website but i'm wondering.....


	4. My Name is Peter

Pa-- Peter. 

Peter, Peter, Peter.

“Peter…” Peter said slowly, the word feeling foreign yet familiar. He whispered his name a few more times, Peter, Peter, Peter.

Peter, Peter, Peter.

His name was Peter.

Not Pauk. Not Spider. 

Peter.

“Peter.” The teen repeated quietly, holding his syllables as he said the strange word over and over again, like a desperate chant, as if to hold on to it tightly.

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.

James.

Peter looked up at his surroundings for a quick moment before turning his attention back to his nails, which he picked at absentmindedly as he muttered his name over and over again under his breath. Each repeat of the word sounded more and more emotional, a quiet yet shuddering voice as he continued to look at his nails. 

"Peter." He mumbled, again, and again and again and again. He picked at the skin beside his nails, peeling off small pieces as he chanted his name like a prayer. 

Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter. His voice shook as he picked at his nails to the rhythm of his name, each syllable causing a slight sting as he pulled at a hangnail.

He was still inside the room he woke up in, the same burning bright light shining above with the same disgusting smell of bleach, no matter how long he had been inside to get used to it. Peter scrunched up his nose in disgust, shaking his head before focusing back onto his now bleeding nails, bleeding from the side as he continued to pick them.

It stung. Real bad. It seemed to ache more due to the fact it's only a minor injury. He wiped his fingers off onto the blanket resting on his lap, a streak of red being left behind as he lifted his hand up to admire his handy work. Peter almost smiled, having had the choice to do something like that felt  _ good _ . And his fingers felt good too, knowing that it was he who had done it and not someone else; it gave him pride and a small sense of calm and the feeling of being in control.

The entire building felt silent. Alone; an empty place once filled with curious talks about him now turned into the same creeping silence that constantly kept him up at night when he was with HYDRA. A gentle hum continued to play every once in a while; a camera, as the Doctor had described once he had calmed down enough to let the poor man inside. To “make sure he isn’t doing anything harmful.” Peter had almost scoffed when the scientist had told him that, yet he kept to himself.

Now, he wished he could’ve heard something other than the quiet buzzes of bugs from behind his door, the angry honks of New Yorkers as they drove home from a late job. The outside environment felt familiar to him, though he was not quite sure how. The howls of strange dogs and small creatures rummaging through empty garbage cans sounded all throughout the night, and somehow, it felt  _ right. _ His ears tingled, and he often flinched, especially when he heard a plane fly by above the tower. The sharp, sudden noises made him jump, instincts telling him to fight, his sixth sense making it feel as though it was stabbing his neck to warn him someone was coming. But there never was.

Still, he stayed trapped in this room, laying down in the middle of a mattress with loose sheets as he tried to ease his mind with each breath he took. In and out, in and out.

James was back.

He was safe.

James.

It felt odd, saying the man’s name after all those years. James. 

James.

Not the Winter Soldier. Not Traitor.

James.

And Peter. Not Pauk.

In. Out. In. Out.

It was night time. He needed to sleep. 

Peter sighed, twisting his body to lay down on his side before stopping, feeling a pull on his arm. The Doctor had put in a new IV, explaining that it was so that he could have his nutrients. Peter had then scowled, and the older man laughed when he told him that it was because he didn’t want to eat.

So he lay flat on his back, listening to the repetitive sound of the whirring cameras as he breathed in and out.

* * *

“What is that?”

Steve looked up at Bucky, who was standing in the doorframe of his room. He held a plate in his hands; scrambled eggs and toast. His friend looked quizzically at the small book he held in his hands; a black leather cover with a dark red spider symbol. He closed it, putting it down beside him as he shrugged, watching Buck walk into the room.

“A book I found at the HYDRA base.” Steve replied, looking at his friend closely for his response. 

Bucky frowned, standing in front of him while he sat on his bed. He grabbed the book rather gently, turning it over and around using the hand not currently holding the plate. “About Peter?”

“Yeah,” Steve fell silent for a minute, watching as his friend put down the plate of food onto his nightstand and flipped through the pages, “he’s like you.”

Bucky looked at him with an incredulous expression before shaking his head, giving him a forced chuckle. “No he’s not.” 

He quietly gestured his friend to sit, scooting over to the left to give Bucky some room. Steve smiled when he sat down, although the smile faded when he realized he was still looking through the contents of the small book. 

Steve sighed, focusing on the floor and glaring at it silently.  _ He _ was the one who had caused the kid’s cracked ribs, he was sure of it. Steve hadn’t been able to eat since they had returned from the mission, and though he was starving, he couldn’t bring himself to eat. 

He stared quietly at the plate of scrambled eggs, his eyes darting from it and Bucky, before the other man put down the book and sighed before looking at Steve. 

“You should eat.”

Steve shook his head, a small smile curling in his lips.

“I’m good.”

“Steve,” Bucky nudged his shoulder, picking up the plate of scrambled eggs that were almost forgotten, “eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Incredibly huge lie.”

“Buck…”

“Eat.”

Steve sighed, finally giving in and grabbing the plate from Bucky’s hands. He half-heartedly glared at his friend before he began to eat, stabbing the eggs and cutting the toast with a fork. Bucky only smirked victoriously as he pocketed the book. “I told you so.”

“Ha ha,” Steve muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he continued eating. Slowly, the guilt began to be washed away, instead, hunger replaced it as he ate. “This is good.” He said genuinely, and Bucky smiled.

“Thank you.”

“I’m joking.”

Bucky laughed and jokingly punched Steve’s arm, scooting farther away from him. “Ass.”

Steve almost choked while laughing, shaking his head as he finally finished the last remnants of his food before he placed the now empty plate back onto the nightstand. He exhaled, feeling as if he had a small weight lifted off his shoulders. He lifted himself, not knowing his back was hunched until after he straightened it. 

He turned to look at Bucky, who was looking at him in concern. “What was bothering you?”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Steve shrugged, scratching his arm. “It’s nothing. How is he?”

“Peter?”

“Yeah, him.”

Bucky smiled, and Steve smiled back gently. He had never seen James act so caring towards someone other than him, and it felt good to see him smile more. He only wished they had known about Peter sooner since he felt slight guilt over not knowing.

“He’s okay. Should be fine in the morning. I’m gonna go in his room and greet him in the morning,” Bucky told him, and Steve nodded, listening intently, “and Stark said that Fury will give us a copy of the other files tomorrow too.”

“Sounds good.”

Bucky looked at Steve again and smiled; a genuine smile, where his dimples showed, and Steve couldn’t be happier. 

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?”

“What if…” Steve waited patiently as Bucky thought about his words. “What if he forgets again? What if he’s-- What if he’s  _ too _ much like me?”

Steve slung an arm around his friend, rubbing his shoulder as a comforting gesture as he thought about the scenario.

“We bring him to Shuri.”

Bucky seemed satisfied with the answer, and patted Steve’s knee before getting up. Steve smiled up at him and nodded.

“Go get some rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello !!!  
> i hope you like this chapter!  
> huge thanks again to MysterGal5 on ffn for helping beta read this story and helping out with the plot. i hope you enjoy this chapter :)) interactions with all of the gang will be on the next chapter, dont worry!  
> let me know what you think, and holy wow, 1600+ hits !! thank you so much, i didnt expect it to be read this much :oo honestly i was thinking it would only be a few hundred hits... its not really a prompt or au that everyone likes haha.  
> anyways, let me know what you think! if you want to suggest a future chapter idea or just like to tell me that youre enjoying this story, go ahead :)) comments help me work faster haha.  
> later everyone!!  
> (and yes im working on the twitter au ok just give me ten more years)


	5. Nostalgia

The smell of something delicious woke Peter up.

A warm, mouthwatering smell that made him feel hungry, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. His stomach ached terribly as the aroma filled the room, only making the pain grow stronger as he looked around. 

Peter sat up quickly, though he almost instantly regretted it as he found the room spinning around him when he blinked. It made his stomach lurch, bile crawling up his raw throat before he swallowed it down with a disgusted face. He grounded himself, placing a hand on his forearm as he forced himself to slowly breathe.

And again, he smelled the wonderful scent in the room, only growing stronger the longer he stayed inside. He almost smiled; a small quirk on his lips as he recalled a fuzzy memory in his mind of a beautiful woman who often showed up in his dreams. He had dubbed her as his “mom,” and he closed his eyes as he lived in the memory, the same mouthwatering smell filling his body with a warm, almost fuzzy feeling. 

The smell made him remember things; as if he hadn’t really been living in HYDRA all those years. He felt  _ happy _ . He so desperately wanted to go back in time: to hear his mom say words in an angelic way, like they were gently flowing from her tongue, and the same delicious smell in front of her, moving a spatula back and forth as he vaguely remembered sitting on a chair, waiting for food to be put in front of him. A man beside him would be smiling brightly, someone like a dad, who would ask him about school and kiss him goodbye before he headed out to work. 

The smell made him happy, and so he decided to stand up and look around to try and follow it. 

Peter pulled off the IV attached to him just as a loud, cheerful voice sounded from the ceiling. He almost screamed as he jumped, rapidly looking around as his senses flared up, absentmindedly wondering why his sixth sense hadn’t warned him of the unwanted visitor. 

The voice almost sounded amused as she spoke, “Good morning, Peter. Shall I let the Avengers know you’re awake?”

The Avengers.

He almost forgot. 

He was in the Avengers Tower.

“Um… No, thank you…” Peter mumbled quietly, looking around. “Who are you?” he frowned, wondering where he had heard the almost mechanical voice before it-- she-- spoke again.

The boy could’ve sworn he heard the voice laugh as she spoke. “My name is FRIDAY. I am the building’s AI system. I can do anything, as long as I am programmed to do it.”

Peter nodded slowly, though still not quite fully understanding what exactly the voice meant by that. 

He sighed, swinging his arms uselessly as he looked around, taking in his environment. He remembered now; he had been ordered to protect the research on him and kill James.

James.

“Is… Is James here?” Peter asked, a little louder that time, and the AI hummed. He assumed that it meant a yes, and walked around the room a bit as he continued to savor the lovely smell that now filled the room. 

But then James helped him break the programming in his head.

He broke Pauk.

Didn’t he?

He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering how James had held him back in HYDRA; held him in his arms as he cried and buried his face in the crook of the older man’s neck. Cried just like he had when James had calmed him down yesterday. Peter had half expected to have been thrown into a machine by now, strapped under bright lights as a gleeful soldier snapped at him, yelling words in russian that made him forget. 

He didn’t want to forget anymore, but at the same time, he felt like he needed to. 

Because he hadn’t completed his orders, and he was afraid of what would happen if they were to ever find him again.

His hands shook, and he breathed in again as he closed and opened his fists to ease the shakiness. He’d figure it out later-- right now, he was starving.

“You absolute fucking BASTARD!”

Peter almost flinched as a person’s voice outside of the room shouted, his sixth sense telling him to protect himself as he instinctively covered his head with his arms as he listened, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I tell you specifically to buy Aunt fucking Jemima syrup and you buy some trashy store-brand syrup instead! How much clearer could I have possibly been?”

Another voice entered the conversation; an annoyed, tired voice that grumbled as it spoke, “who cares? It’s maple syrup, for god sake. It’s always good.”

The previous voice answers in a heated tone; and after much consideration, Peter realized that it was Tony speaking, “NOT store brand! Aunt Jemima is the best syrup brand and Steve decided to buy the worst tasting brand! Who uses store brand anymore?”

“Jesus Christ,” yet another voice spoke, a light, yet stern tone. “Put syrup on your damn pancakes and eat.”

At the mention of eating, Peter’s stomach growled painfully, and he clutched it tightly. He sighed, his eyes darting from the door to the ceiling. 

“Uh… Friday, right?”

“Yes, Peter,” came the robotic voice. “What do you need?”

“Am I allowed to eat?”

Peter almost fooled himself into believing that the voice sounded concerned as she spoke, “yes, of course you are. Feel free to go to the kitchen and have pancakes and bacon with the rest of the team.”

He had no idea what either of those things were, but they sounded delicious. He walked towards the door and opened it, his hand shaking again as he twisted the door handle. The same warm aroma filled his senses again, the smell growing stronger and closer as he neared the kitchen.

Peter walked through the halls, looking around as he saw doors of all kinds that pointed to the Avengers’ rooms; even one for James. He raised his eyebrows as he looked at it in slight shock-- he had been so used to seeing his room be nothing but a small room with a silver metal door, but in here, he had a wooden door. He tilted his head before he followed the scent, ignoring the pain he felt in his stomach. 

Slowly he made his way to the kitchen, where the loud voices quieted down. He stood there awkwardly, eyes all looking at him with great curiosity. He darted his eyes downwards, now realizing he was still in a thin, paper-like gown. 

No one spoke. Instead, they stared at him while he glared furiously at the floor.

After a while, Peter finally spoke, “uh… Friday-- your AI thing on the ceiling-- said that I could eat here and…” he trailed off, having looked at them before awkwardly looking behind him. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go back…”

Peter caught a burning smell quickly, and he snapped his attention back towards the kitchen to see what was causing it. A blonde man was the first to snap out of his trance; he cursed as he handled thin brown strips of meat using a pair of tongs, only cursing louder as Peter saw bits of black at the side of the meat. 

After that, the rest of the team seemed to stop staring, and a red-headed woman Peter recognized from the raid smiled at him, a small quirk on her lips. He looked at her arm, which was slung over her chest with a sling, and he remembered he had snapped her arm. 

Her scream echoed in his brain, bouncing back and forth as it played over and over in his head, almost flinching when he imagined the loud snap that made shortly before she had screamed.

“Come sit, Peter. We’re just eating breakfast.” 

Peter looked at her timidly, “are… are you sure?”

The woman nodded, pulling up a spare chair and setting it beside her, patting it gently. Peter approached her carefully, before hopping on the chair.

The blonde man at the stove snapped his head to turn to the woman. “That was my chair!” 

Peter widened his eyes in alarm, fearing that he wouldn’t be able to eat, and moved to get off the soft chair, before the woman placed a hand on his shoulder. “He’s fine. Clint can stand like a big boy.” 

Clint-- Peter was assuming that was the name of the blond cook-- looked offended before he waved at the teen and resumed cooking, this time paying attention to another pan on the stove. It was three globs of beige beside each other, and he internally made a face at the colour, being reminded of the tasteless porridge that HYDRA would feed him as dessert. 

Peter looked over to the red-headed woman, hoping to ask for her name, but she had already turned to speak to someone else on her left side. He sat silently, feeling out of place as he listened to the indistinct conversations everyone was having. 

“Good morning, Pete,” James had suddenly spoken to him, and Peter snapped his attention to the metal armed man, sitting in front of him and wearing a warm smile. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good morning.” Peter only shrugged, quickly losing confidence-- not that he had many to begin with-- and he turned his attention to his nails, choosing instead of talking, to pick at them under the table. However, James seemed to have noticed, and gently nudged his foot against the teen’s. 

The table seemed to quiet down as Clint brought two plates over onto the table; piles of brown strips of meat heaping from one plate as another plate held a mountain of golden brown flat disks. The delicious aroma only smelt stronger as Peter’s stomach ache terribly, begging to be fed. 

A man with a goatee lunged forward with his plate and scooped a giant pile of the brown meat onto it, cackling as the others on the table started yelling at him. He only grinned and took a bite of it. His eyes seemed to light up as he said, “Clint, once again, you nail this bacon.” Peter looked at the man with a moment of realization, connecting the voices he had previously heard to the man who just spoke. 

_ That _ ’s Tony Stark.

Clint only rolled his eyes as everyone begrudgingly filled their own plates with food, and the blond man placed a small dish with a rectangular yellow block in the middle. Peter looked on, his stomach still gnawing painfully as everyone began to eat. 

He watched as the blond man took off his white apron and went to grab his own food, before looking at Peter and frowning, “aren’t you gonna eat?”

Peter looked at him in confusion, frowning. “You never said I could…”

Everyone fell silent again and looked at Peter, except this time, it was for pity, and he  _ hated _ it. He looked over at James, relieved that he was the only one who didn’t look at him that way, and nodded, grabbing another plate and handing it to the teenager. 

“You can eat, kiddo,” he said kindly, also handing him a fork and a knife with a dulled end. Peter’s eyes lit up with joy upon realizing that he could eat and try out what had been making him hungry all morning, and eagerly placed food onto his plate.

He stabbed at the strip of meat on his plate, before inevitably failing and using his fingers to pick it up and bite it. An explosion of flavor danced in his mouth, and it almost overwhelmed him as he chewed on it thoroughly, enjoying every salty morsel and how crispy it is.

“This is really good.” Peter said quietly, offering a tiny smile to Clint. 

The blond grinned victoriously as he stuffed his own face with the flat disks, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow you guys really did not like the last chapter huh...  
> well, hope you like domestic avengers!  
> either gonna stay domestic for the next chapter or make it angsty, i will decide in a few days :)  
> let me know what you like about this story so far! any feedback is appreciated :]


	6. And When You Were Gone

Being a wanted criminal made it hard to do a lot of things. 

But he didn't succeed. He needed to succeed. 

He’ll do whatever it takes, because he  _ can’t _ live with himself otherwise.

“ _ Hey dear, I finally put Carl to bed. He says you promised to take him out to the carnival tomorrow. I hope you’ll be home by then. Call me back, I miss you. I’m gonna go to bed, goodnight _ .”

He had managed to recover two things from the Raft when he escaped. His phone and the red and black book.

The damn book that was now useless as he held it in his right hand, hiding out in an abandoned factory that he found the night before. The black star that stood out of the cover mocked him, laughed at the failure he was, but he promised himself. 

He promised himself that he would achieve his goal. 

Whatever it takes. 

And then something clicked in him, and for whatever reason, he began to read the book, determined to find something,  _ anything _ , that could help him in getting what he wanted. That’s when he found something-- something codenamed “The Spider,” something that the Winter Soldier had gotten too close to, mentioning that afterwards, whatever “The Spider” was, was moved to a different HYDRA base. 

He continued reading, although finding no other mentions of “The Spider.” However, he did find a list of places Barnes had been kept in the past; a list of HYDRA bases that had been either destroyed or abandoned, or bases that Bucky had been kept in for periods of time. 

This page kept his interest as he looked through the list, trying to translate the year when he was transferred to the different bases, before he flipped back to previous pages, finding the one where it mentioned the “Spider.” He read through the page again before flipping back to the list of locations, and he finally smiled.

_ HYDRA --  _ _ Himalayas. _

Now to decipher the address, and find whatever this “Spider” is.

* * *

Peter decided to stay in “his” room instead of being with the Avengers, fearing that he would screw something up any moment. The thought of what possible punishments they could come up with scared him, and he chose to ignore how he could hear his own pulse. He settled for listening to the laughter that erupted from the team after what sounded like Clint made a statement. He heard a deeper voice scold him, but he eventually drowned out their voices, instead choosing to look around his room. 

There was a window. Plain and simple, except it was built with clear glass, contrasting it from his old room at HYDRA; cold with bars, too high up for Peter to actually see anything from the outside. He pressed his fingers against the glass and squished his face onto it, looking outside and seeing people walking on the cement below him.

His stomach lurched, and he was quick to back away. 

Peter didn’t like heights. He  _ hated _ them. Hated them, especially when he had been transferred to Europe  by plane. Hated the obnoxiously loud hum that drilled holes into his skull, hated the way his stomach made flip flop motions that made him want to vomit. He hated the constant cutting words of the soldiers watching him, mocking him about his pain as he squeezed his eyes shut. His ears would hear a high pitched whine and he  _ hated _ it; it made him want to tear his ears off of his head. 

His mind would go to terrible things; terrible thoughts of what felt like memories coming back to him, of his mom saying goodbye for the last time. When he had approached his Superior, he was slapped and scolded before he had the chance to apologize.

Now, the same sick feeling appeared in his stomach, yet he couldn’t quite look away as he continued to stare into the streets of New York for the first time. 

_ “Peter, do you remember where you lived before you came here?” _

_ “I wish.” _

_ “I used to live in Brooklyn.” _

_ “Where’s that?” _

_ “In New York. I’ll take you there when we escape, I promise.” _

_ “Do you think we’ll be able to?” _

_ “Of course. We have to.” _

_ He wasn’t wrong about his promise, _ Peter thought to himself, smiling at the small memory before finally stepping away from the window. He shook his head, trying to take away the tumbling feeling in his stomach before he heard a voice call out to him, a tall figure leaning on the door frame.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Peter turned his head over to the voice, his lips quirking upwards by the smallest bit, “Hey, James.”

* * *

Bucky was sitting down on the bed inside Peter’s “room” when the boy had asked him the question. 

It was a normal conversation at first; Bucky had asked him how he was doing, to which the teen shrugged, not wanting to speak. Bucky frowned before he gestured for the kid to sit beside him and when he finally did, he put an arm around his shoulder.

Bucky had a small smile as he watched the teen lean into his side, much like they had done years ago, away from the watching eyes of HYDRA. They would talk for minutes, sometimes hours, and he would tell stories to Peter about Steve when he started to slowly remember more and more. 

But then HYDRA found out he was remembering too much and brainwashed him again. He still remembered the pain, the pounding in his head as he screamed, but Peter had always been there afterwards, trying to get him to remember. 

And Bucky had done the same, when the teen had gotten his words used on him for the first time, he was there after sneaking out of his own “room,” holding Peter and telling him that it was his name, that he wasn’t Pauk. That he was Peter.

He could hardly believe he was here again, after years being apart, Peter still would lean close to him. 

And then, the question.

“Why did you bring me here?”

It had been such a quiet question and Bucky almost couldn’t hear him say those words.

Bucky looked at him and gently rubbed his shoulder; a gesture the teen had enjoyed in the past. “You were hurt, and I wouldn’t leave you for HYDRA to find you.”

“You should’ve.”

The statement was so blunt, so shocking to Bucky that he almost scowled.

Not at Peter. Never to Peter.

Instead, he wanted to scowl at HYDRA, to find the ones who had been ordering Peter in the years he wasn’t there to look after him, because he  _ hated _ seeing Peter be this way. To be so timid without having any value over his life. It was like living in HYDRA all over again.

“I didn’t and I’m never going to. Please, not this song again.”

Peter had only been like this once, in all the years he was with him. When he was ten years old, thinking thoughts that no ten year old should never have to think, and with such a demanding yet shaking voice as he told Bucky what he wanted to do. 

Peter forced him to make the dark red line on his neck, though now it was a soft, light brown color that barely stood out. 

Bucky prayed to whatever god was out there to get Peter out of his overthinking mind.

“No, you don’t understand.”

The older man stared at the teen as he continued to talk, “you weren’t here, when they made me like this,” he gestured to his body, standing up, “you weren’t there when they started ordering me to do things for them-- they-- they did things to me. And you weren’t there.”

Bucky stared at him silently, though inside he felt like his heart was slowly tearing itself apart while Peter continued to talk.

He was right; he didn’t know what they did to him after he was transferred, sent to a different location. He didn’t know what powers he had or his potential. He didn’t know what happened after he got relocated.

So he listened, with each word stabbing him like a needle.

“And-- and part of me hoped that maybe--  _ maybe _ , you’d save me. But then you turned your back on HYDRA--” Peter stopped to take a breath. “You turned your back on me.”

He never thought about that. 

While on the run, he only focused on two things; himself and his memories from before HYDRA. He was desperate to remember, desperate to live a normal life after having been brought back to himself. Desperate to figure out how the new world worked, and he never even  _ thought _ about Peter until a day ago, much less  _ remembered. _

Suddenly he felt so  _ guilty _ and everything started to slowly fall into place.

“Peter--”

“I’m not done,” Peter snapped, in such a way that it even made Bucky jump a little from how aggressive he sounded, yet his voice shook the longer he spoke. “--and, and suddenly I’m trained harder, forced to do more things for them-- and then I get bitten by a stupid  _ spider _ \--”

Bucky watched as the teen steadied his now shaking right hand, massaging his palm, “and suddenly I’m thrown on top of metal beds with too bright of lights three times a day while I laid there awake, with them poking at my wrists and opening them and experimenting.”

“And then they wouldn’t even be done, because I’m ordered to do missions; I don’t even  _ remember _ some of them, and when I failed they’d use their experiments as a punishment.”

Bucky found himself hugging the small teen as his body shook, wiping Peter’s cheeks as he cried, still speaking, “You should’ve left me. You  _ should’ve _ . Then maybe they would’ve finally had enough, they’d call me useless and kill me-- but now I’m alive, and I can’t see them until I complete the mission. And I  _ can’t _ . You should’ve left me to die.”

Bucky had no idea to say, so instead he just kept hugging the kid, rubbing his back using small, circular motions with his metal thumb while he used his other hand to run his fingers through Peter’s long hair. He wished he’d stop talking, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand hearing him cry. He would cry soon, and he didn’t want to.

Eventually, his words turned into sobs, which turned into sniffles, and he found Peter hugging back, though he was clutching onto his shirt as if he were to lose him again.

Bucky swore to himself that he would never leave him again.

But out of curiosity, he asked the teen, “what was your mission?”

Peter never answered, and he was fine with that.

They spent the rest of the morning hugging and when Peter had finally gotten tired, he carried him and laid him down to his bed.

Bucky quietly left the room and walked over to the living room. 

“Stark, where’s the files? We need to find those HYDRA bastards  _ now _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you like this chapter :]] can you guess who the new character is?? (probably, but still)  
> let me know your likes and dislikes!! have a great day and or night :D   
> comments help motivate me to continue this story :)


	7. Too Far

“I think you’re going too far, Barnes.”

Natasha hummed while she rinsed the dishes, and though the hot water almost burned her skin, she quite enjoyed it. The simple repetitive task of running a plate under water and placing it inside the puzzle called the dishwasher helped keep her mind off of things; helped her know she wasn’t in The Red Room anymore. 

She was happy when she washed the dishes, so she volunteered every time, to Clint’s joy. She almost considered stopping at one point, just to spite him, but it was fine since it helped everybody in the long run.

So she washed the dishes now, putting them in the dishwasher as she hummed random tunes of jumbled lullabies and listened to the sound of men fighting.

“Me? How the hell am I going too far?”

“You need to stop treating this like a personal matter and treat this like a regular mission. Interrogate, find out more-- jesus, I can’t believe I sound like Fury.”

Natasha frowned as she listened, momentarily pausing her humming when she heard Tony grumble. Even when she wasn’t looking at Stark, she could imagine him pacing around with his hands rubbing his face. She shook her head at the image, drying her hands with a handcloth.

“Interroga-- I just met a friend that I never knew I had and found out he was _tortured_ like me, and you’re telling me that I’m _going_ _too far_?”

Peter. They were arguing about the kid they found at the HYDRA base.

Her grip tightened around the cloth as she continued listening, tight lipped. “That’s not what I mean, I just--” She hears him stutter for a bit, before he scoffs. “Listen, it’s not that, it’s just-- what if he turns? What if he’s just trying to soften you up? You know, or what if he becomes…”

“Like me?”

There was a silence, and Natasha felt her stomach tighten to a knot. 

She’d been tortured before. Beaten down. Of course she has, she’s Natasha Romanoff; trained in the Red Room with the other Black Widows. From the age of nothing she’s been told she was only ever worth something when she succeeded in murdering someone, and when she didn’t succeed…

And though she felt angry-- furious, even-- at Stark for even  _ implying _ that, there was a sad truth in his words that she didn’t want to admit, because they didn’t know for a fact that the kid was okay. He barely talked, and even then, he only ever talked to Barnes. 

She didn’t want it to be true, but they were right. They had to get answers out of him, even if they had files and books to turn to, because  _ who knows _ how many people he’s killed when conscious, when he was awake and when he knew what he was doing and still did it.

The kid was probably gonna go to the Raft.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Bucky’s furious retort snapped Natasha out of her thoughts and back into reality, where she was still holding the dishcloth tightly with her good hand. “He’s  _ terrified _ , Stark. He can barely hold a conversation yet you want us to interrogate him?”

“Fury told me to!” Tony snapped, and though Natasha knew he would never admit it, she could’ve sworn she heard his voice waver the smallest bit. 

“Since when do you listen to Fury?” Natasha called out, turning the kitchen tap off before finally approaching them. Tony was standing with his arms closed, holding a laptop to his side while Bucky glared at him from the couch. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Since today.”

Natasha tilted her head in confusion as she watched Tony place the laptop down, plugging in a small USB before the screen filled with footage of the HYDRA base’s first basement floor. The same empty halls were there, filled with rooms with only bars separating them from the others, only this time the lights flashed with red blaring lights with the date of the footage as the tenth of June this year.

Natasha watched with horror as she noticed Peter standing in one of the cells, his body stained with dirt and blood and mottled spots of black and blue. She swore she even saw a thin line on the palm of his hand before he had curled his fingers around one of the bars.

She wanted to stop watching.

She wanted to throw up.

She almost did.

Natasha listened to them speak, the boy’s voice quiet yet almost emotionless before he began to put on his suit. She kept a special eye on his wrists as he snapped on what looked like a bracelet. 

“Don’t hold back.”

The footage ended there, as the cameras seemed to have shut down after that. Natasha looked over at Barnes, who, up until this point, hasn’t said anything since the video started. She sat down beside him, holding his non-metal arm in hopes of comforting him. 

His friend had been ordered to kill him.

She knew it was not the time, but she really wanted to make a joke about Clint.

“James, you’re okay, it’s gonna be okay, it’s not his fault--”

“There are more videos,” Tony started, swallowing heavily before he continued to speak, “of him doing his… missions. He wasn’t brainwashed like you for half of them. And even if he was, we don’t have any proof of that.”

James only seemed to close himself even more, his metal arm clenching into a fist tightly. Natasha wanted to glare at the billionaire more than anything else in the world. 

Stark hesitated before speaking again, his voice quiet. “Unless you want to see what he can tell us, it’s over. We have to turn him in.”

Suddenly, FRIDAY announced, “boss, Peter seems to have spiraled into a panic attack.”

* * *

Zemo realized almost too late that company had arrived-- he had been looking inside a large and empty room, one he had found downstairs when he was searching for a filing room in hopes that HYDRA had physical copies of their work. Fortunately, he eventually found a different file folder, filled to the brim with photos of a small boy that couldn’t be older than twelve. 

Darkened photos of a boy laying down unconscious on a metal table while people crowded around him, pictures of people lying dead on the ground. He didn’t have time to look through all of them, though, before he heard muffled voices from rooms away from him.

He kept the files close to his side, stepping over a comatose body before slinking out of the room, hoping that he could avoid being seen. His other hand hovered just above the gun in his back pocket as he snuck around, though he didn’t want to kill anybody.

At least not yet.

“Har, d’you see that truck when we were walking in?”

“No, what truck?”

His truck. 

Zemo quickly slunk out of the building before running to the truck, almost throwing himself inside before driving away. When he was sure he had gotten out safely, he finally let himself breathe, not realizing that he had been holding his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long ass wait !! i had trouble writing this chapter, but im back. im really sorry for how short this one is, but hopefully you'll like the next chapter :-) i already have the whole thing planned out. now to only figure out how to start it......

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone :)  
> so, this is a new story. obviously.  
> this chapter was pretty shit, haha i can only hope itll get better as they go on :))
> 
> beta reas by MysteryGal5 on ffn!
> 
> enjoy! comments and kudos are very appreciated :))


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